As I excavate deeper into the vistas of my future boulevard, the chill wind above my hairs unfolds a long-lost secret tune of desperation. The more I try to emend the path of doom, the more I get indulged into it. I feel like to flee from the boisterous and vociferous shadows that my life casts over me. A bright and sunny day appears dim to me now, while I can chalk out a lifetime from moonless nights. This everlasting contrast of light and darkness leads me to nowhere.
My futile attempts tease me every time when I am alone; and even sometimes when I belong to the crowd. The solitude, these days, is burdensome to me. It is perhaps patience that all I require the most, and all that I lack the most.
Although I understand the essential lacuna of my character, I love to reign amid the abysmal depth of this self-drawn solitude, of numbness, and frustration. It’s all what I left with now, and all that I am destined to savor until this battle of mind over matter ends.
Heavens rot as tears rolled down my cheeks. Prayers remain unanswered when I wished to get them heard the most. All my austerities are hidden somewhere among the pinpricks of the Eastern asterism. I bleed, I batter, I bruise – all just to let me feel I survive. A million coruscating shaft of moonbeams now seem to delve deeper into the darkest dungeons of my inner self, illuminating nothing but an eternal void.
Wake me up to take me Home!
psychedelicalo 